


The Pecking Hen

by starryeveningivy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: HarryPotter - Freeform, Hogwarts, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:14:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24588919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starryeveningivy/pseuds/starryeveningivy
Summary: These characters do not belong to me, they are the property of J.K Rowling
Kudos: 3





	The Pecking Hen

**Author's Note:**

> Minerva always cast me as a definite mother hen of the school, keeping all her chicks in her place.  
> I thought it would be interesting to imagine Minerva had heard Snape insulting students particularily harshly and had finally decided to give him a piece of her mind

All that could be heard all the way down the corridor were the crisp beratings of Professor McGonagall.  
Students hurried through the hallways, picking up stride and grabbing their books in haste as they travelled past the potions classroom, impish smiles on their faces.

“I have had it with you!”  
She bellowed shortly. A tense pause. “Bullying students.” She spat. 

“…Professor I am only intending to enforce correct authority in my cla-“  
“Correct AUTHORITY!” She was exasperated.  
A muffled clap was heard, more like the distinct sound of a textbook coming down on someone’s back, followed by the sound of scattered shuffling. Inside the classroom, there stood the scene. Professor McGonagall standing over Professor Snape, with a gigantic textbook, and Snape crumpled, trying to steady himself on a desk. 

“How is this in any way appropriate?” Professor Snape shrieked.  
“I have worked here thirty-six years and never in time have I heard such a string of insults from a member of staff directed at children!” 

She then swatted him up the side of his head with her hand, rustling his black hair like a plume of feathers.  
It got quiet. Harshly quiet. He looked up at the intimidating witch. Her eyes pierced through his skin and he winced.

“You better learn, Severus Snape, that you are to grow up soon.” She looked wildly stern as she said this. The fear sat there in Snape’s eyes for a while. His whole frame changed shape. His black cloaks were rumpled and creased over a table instead of their usual display, thrown out behind him like a large black bird.  
“Sometimes I think I am the only person who hears you.” At that she squashed the book down on the table and marched out of the classroom. Two Gryffindor boys scurried away from the door and down the hall. 

After a few moments staring blankly out the window, Snape hoisted himself upright, patting and rubbing at his now sore shoulder blade. His eyes were still stunned and he blinked a few times to come back to his senses. He smoothed out his hair from when she had swatted him and exhaled, relieved she had departed from this space. 

He leaned against his table in silence. Guilt, embarrassment, shock filtered through his mind. He thought to himself that he hasn’t seen that side of her in an extremely long time, never expecting the wrath. He almost laughed. He’d seen her pretty stern with students before, but never like this, never like this.  
He heard faint, retreating giggles of students but paid no mind. He poured himself a drink, sat down with a heaping pile of unmarked work and tried to forget this fateful day.


End file.
